


Of Hairspray and Unspoken Things

by AFailureByDesign



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, Hairspray, I don't know how else to tag this, It Is There I promise It's Just Also Not Really There Much, Like Barely There Angst, Like That's Literally It, M/M, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Slight Background Clintasha, Soft Stucky Being Soft, Soft Stucky Week 2016, The Word I Am Looking For Here Is Implied, implied Clintasha, resolved angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-09 16:13:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8898901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AFailureByDesign/pseuds/AFailureByDesign
Summary: This is what passes for a "holiday" in their apartment: a film on the tv, or a record playing (CD, Steve has to remind himself, they're called CDs now.), or silence, sometimes, if that's what they need.  Order in groceries or a take-away if neither of them want to cook.  The new apartment isn't quite home, not like their old one back in the 1940s was - and Steve wonders if anything'll really feel like home since he woke up in the twenty-first century - but it's close enough.Or -Soft Stucky Fluff for Soft Stucky Week.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hey!  
>   
> This was written for the 2016 Soft Stucky Week as organised by iamnotsebastianstan on Tumblr.  
>   
> This was actually written ages ago but my laptop has unfortunately decided that life is not its thing and died, so I have to try and upload it via mobile which is really fucking difficult. Seriously. I've had to write this about five times already. Someone help.  
>   
> Furthermore this is the first ever fic I've uploaded on AO3 so I'm really unfamiliar with the format, so if it fucks up I can't fix it until I get a new laptop.  
>   
> So please just near that in mind before you lynch me for not knowing what I'm doing.  
>   
> This is also my first ever Stucky fic (/ficlet) that I've actually had the courage to post and it'scompletely unbeta'd so feedback is super appreciated.  
>   
> Thank you! I hope you enjoy Soft Stucky Week!

Steve hears the door open and shut, and shuffling in the hallway, and he smiles, pulling his pillow closer to his chest. There are few things that can make him smile so easily anymore, but Bucky's always been one of them.  
  
Technically, Steve supposes that they're on holiday, even though they're still in Brooklyn. They've been off-duty from the (reformed) SHIELD and general Avenging for a few weeks now. Most of it has been spent inside, away from the noise and crowds of New York. Sam visited them, but he could only stay for a couple of nights, and besides - he still isn't exactly keen to be in Bucky's company for long periods of time. It suits them fine - Steve can call Sam whenever he wants, and he and Bucky like having this time alone to re-learn the things about each other that they lost in the seventy-odd years that they were forced apart.  
  
This is what passes for a "holiday" in their apartment: a film on the tv, or a record playing ( _CD_ , Steve has to remind himself, _they're called CDs now._ ), or silence, sometimes, if that's what they need. Order in groceries or a take-away if neither of them want to cook. Occasionally, someone might come over for a while: Natasha mostly, and she might bring Clint with her if he's around, but she's still working for Fury and he's preoccupied with his apartment problems in Bed-Stuy, so they can't be there often; Thor, on the rare occasions that he's in Midguard and isn't with his girlfriend in London; Pepper and Tony, once, but they didn't stay long, and they haven't been back since. And maybe Steve misses them all a little, the make-shift family he found after being discovered in the Arctic and thrown into this strange new world, but he'll be back to work soon anyway (and maybe Bucky'll join the Avengers; they've certainly talked about it before - although Steve hasn't decided how he feels about that yet). The new apartment isn't quite _home_ , not like their old one back in the 1940s was - and Steve wonders if anything'll really feel like _home_ since he woke up in the twenty-first century - but it's close enough.  
  
Right now, there's a bowl of popcorn on the coffee table and Steve's lying on the couch, waiting for Bucky to get back from therapy, with one cushion under his head and hugging another one. He _may_ be wearing Bucky's hoodie, but it's not like they don't share clothes all the time anyway.  
  
"Hey, Buck," he says when Bucky walks in, his voice muffled slightly from lying on his side, "how was it?"  
  
Bucky just shrugs. It's his usual response when asked about his therapy - he doesn't like talking about it, and mostly, Steve won't press him to. "What're you watching?"  
  
" _Hairspray_ ," Steve replies.  
  
"Right. Is that another thing on Sam's list of modern shit we need to catch up on?"  
  
Steve hums. "Kinda." He lifts his legs up so Bucky can sit down, and then drops his feet into Bucky's lap.  
  
"Steve," Bucky says.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Are you wearing my fuckin' hoodie?"  
  
Steve shrugs a little, burying his face in the pillow he was holding to hide the blush that was spreading across his face. "Maybe."  
  
He's ninety-nine percent sure that Bucky just rolled his eyes at him.  
  
"It's warm!" Steve argues defensively, "And I'm cold!"  
  
"You're _never_ cold, Steve, you're like a fucking space heater nowadays." Bucky leans back against the couch. "And get your own damn hoodie."  
  
Steve just smiles, knowing that Bucky doesn't really mean it, even though he's technically right - he can hear the fondness in his voice, and besides, he knows for a fact that Bucky is wearing Steve's shirt and Steve's socks today, _at least_. And possibly his underwear.  
  
Steve is more than a little interested in finding that out.  
  
They fall into a comfortable silence, watching the film that was playing. Steve actually likes this one. The sixties looked interesting, and Steve is more than a little annoyed that he missed them. He knows Peggy would have loved this film. He wonders if she ever saw it before she died, or became to ill to enjoy movies.  
  
It doesn't hurt to think about Peggy any more. He could talk about her freely, without feeling like something was being ripped out of his chest, he could laugh about the things she used to do and how she would take no shit from the other officers. He isn't angry anymore. He's accepted a lot of things recently, and he's better for it.  
  
"Jesus, Steve, what is this film?"  
  
"It's a musical," Steve mumbles.  
  
Bucky snorts. "If the world didn't already know you were queer as shit, Stevie, they definitely do now."  
  
Steve pulls the cushion out from under his head and throws it Bucky, grinning when it hits him square in the face. "Shut up, it's good. I've already watched _Grease_ today."  
  
"Grease?"  
  
"Ah, I forgot. You need to watch that one. I can't believe we missed the sixties, Buck. Look at it!"  
  
"You mean, _you_ missed the sixties. _I_ was just brainwashed for most of it." Bucky says dryly, pausing for a moment before adding, "Probably."  
  
Steve rolls his eyes. He doesn't like it when Bucky talks about his time as the Winter Soldier. He doesn't like to think about how horrible it was for him. It just pisses him off, and makes him feel useless for being frozen while Bucky was being tortured and brainwashed and God only knows what else. But he knows it's important for Bucky to come to terms with, so he doesn't stop him. By now, he's used to the off-hand comments about it and Bucky's dark sarcasm whenever he's questioned about it.  
  
Bucky doesn't complain about the movie again, and Steve can feel Bucky start to relax. He rests his hand on Steve's leg, just above his knee, and even laughs a little at a couple of the funny moments. That's a good sign. Bucky didn't laugh for the first three months after Steve found him in Bucharest, and if he talked, it was one-worded answers. It took weeks for Bucky to be anywhere near comfortable with anyone, even Steve.  
  
It was difficult, but Steve thinks that he wouldn't trade the moments like these for the world. The moments where everything feels kinda okay.  
  
When the film ends, Bucky stretches, and stands up, pushing Steve's feet off him. "I got something for you."  
  
Steve props himself up on one elbow. "Oh yeah?"  
  
"Yeah. Hang on. I think it left it in the hall." Bucky leaves, and Steve sits up, curious. When Bucky returns, he's holding a duffel bag - his bag, the one he usually keeps weapons in and stores under his - _their_ , generally - bed. Steve is slightly apprehensive. He tries not to be.  
  
Bucky sits next to Steve - close, arms brushing, and that's a really good sign, because the road to recovery is long and winding and some days Bucky can't even stand to be in the same room as Steve and other days he doesn't like being touched much. Steve tries not to mind the lack of affection, or the fact that nothing about "them" is really official.  
  
"I just, I was looking for... I mean, they kept them. I didn't think they would have, you know? But I managed to find them, a few of them, because I kept most of them on me, a good luck thing, like Johnboy had his cross that his ol' ma gave 'im and Dernier kept a locket with his girl's picture in it, and you had your compass when you arrived, and I had... well, it didn't really work, I guess, since most of them got taken away when I was captured at Azzano, and i guess they were destroyed. So this is all I've got..." Bucky seems to realise he's rambling and he stops, and opens the bag and takes out a wad of paper.  
  
No. Not paper. Envelopes and letters, ten of them, yellowed and creased and torn at the corners. He hands them to Steve, and rests his head on Steve's shoulder while he looks at them.  
  
Steve unfolds one, at it takes him a couple of moments to recognise them. They were the letters he'd written to Bucky after he'd left, and a couple of pages of sketches that he'd given Bucky before he was shipped off to England. But there was more: letters from Bucky, too, that Steve guessed he hadn't gotten round to sending off before he was captured.  
  
He reads through them, and feels a lump rise in his throat. "Jesus, Buck."  
  
"Even then, you know?" Bucky mumbles, "Even then. I didn't send them - I didn't want to. I said I'd give them to you if I ever made it home, and it never really seemed likely, even before Azzano."  
  
Steve doesn't know what to say.  
  
"But, you... you understand, right? Why I couldn't. I didn't want to -" Bucky looks away and rubs his jaw. "I didn't want to lose you even more than I already had. And then you saved me - us, all of us - and you didn't look like you anymore and I..."  
  
"You wouldn't have lost me," Steve manages to say. "Jesus, Buck - you wouldn't ever have lost me."  
  
"Yeah. Well. I realise that now. I want you to have them because sometimes I think that you don't really... that maybe I don't really show you enough, or tell you, or whatever, that I..."  
  
The words seem to stick in Bucky's throat, like he can't quite make himself say them, and Steve thinks he understands. He turns and kisses him, at the corner of his mouth first, smiling when Bucky closes his eyes and responds by tilting Steve's chin to fit their mouths together properly. They've kissed before, of course, but it still never quite feels _normal_ to Steve. Maybe it's that he never really expected to be able to do this, practically whenever he wanted. Maybe he just really, really fucking loves James Buchanan Barnes.  
  
Whatever it is, there's always something about it that manages to set Steve's heartbeat racing every time without fail.  
  
When Steve pulls away, he tucks his head into the crook of Bucky's neck. "It's okay," he says, "It's okay. I... I get it. You don't have to tell me anything."  
  
Bucky hums in vague agreement, eyes trained somewhere above Steve's head.  
  
"Also, you need to shave. You're getting scruffy."  
  
Bucky laughs. "Just because you couldn't grow a beard if you tried. I know you like it really."  
  
Steve moves his head from Bucky's shoulder and shoves him away. "Shut up, I _could_. And I'm serious. Go shave. And have a shower, too. Put on something nice. We'll go out tonight, yeah?"  
  
Bucky gives him a soft smile. "Okay," he replies. "Okay. Yeah, sure. I'd like that."  
  
He stands up and heads for the bathroom. He reaches the doorway, and turns around, and hesitates.  
  
"Steve, I... I mean it. I love you, okay? I think you think I don't sometimes, and maybe that's my fault, but I do." He looks away, biting his lip. "Always have. Always will."  
  
He disappears into the bathroom before Steve can reply, but Steve isn't sure what he would say anyway. He's not used to Bucky opening himself up like that. So he just smiles and rereads the letters, and tries to be subtle when he wipes his eyes, even though there's no one around to see.  
  
Bucky reappears in the doorway a few moments later to grin at Steve. "So are you gonna come join me in here or what, punk? Don't leave me waitin' around for you."


End file.
